


Just a doll

by tissuesarehot



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Dorks, M/M, annabelle is the main shit in this yo, especially shane, i mean we all know what's gonna happen in this fic eventually, ig not lmao, is that spoiler, it's weird - Freeform, like ah fuck okay lets just suddenly jerk my best friend off weird, no detailed smut bc I'm like that, ryan makes too many tall jokes bc he's a petty shortie bish, shyan, they're just idiots ok, wink wink mf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 23:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19711621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tissuesarehot/pseuds/tissuesarehot
Summary: Where Annabelle gets to Shane in ways he didn't expect her to.





	Just a doll

**Author's Note:**

> highly inspired by the annabelle episode because ryan stopping shane from knocking on a glass and the pure terror on his face was just peak comedy dudes. so i decided to twist it into a shyan thing bc im an annoying hoe lmao. 
> 
> ps, there'll be some typos here. half of the time i wrote this was in bed, at twelve am and sleepy. i apologise in advance.

It happened after the Annabelle episode. Or, rather it enhanced. 

Shane never knew how to be thrilled feels like, to have adrenaline alarmingly stream through his body as shocking and fast like a current in a wire until Ryan grabbed his wrist in that room. 

It was a reflex, he knew that at least. Ryan simply didn't want both of them to die just because of Shane's heat-in-the-moment decision to knock the glass as an effective method to taunt and mock the doll even further. In fact, there was nothing to taunt even. It was, as a 'victimised' man had said, after all, just a doll. Shane just wanted to make it more entertaining and laughable for the viewers; to make them say _'oh, that's so Shane'_ when he knocks on the glass, to fulfil the shaniac package. He didn't think much of it at that time. He was really getting into the mood of being chaotic until Ryan just did that. 

One word. _No_. And a warning tone. That's all Ryan had said but it was the squeezing hold he had on Shane's wrist that made him tremble a little inside, this fluttering quiver like a humming bird's wing in his stomach, like the lightest sensation of an eyelash against a cheek. He managed to just laugh in a stunned fervour and amused disbelief, perfectly covering up the alarm bells going off in his nerves that shook under a very warm touch. His fingers weren't directly on his skin, at least not completely, as half of it were on his sleeve. But it was still there, that skin to skin contact initiating some foreign impulse running in his nerves. The camera caught Shane laughing at Ryan's paranoia, but it didn't catch his drumming heart. 

But why? Ryan has touched him before; a pat, a side hug, a playful punch to the arm, a hit on the head (that one hurt more than Shane wanted to admit) whatever it is that friends do to each other. So why now? Why had this reflexive act, with no double meaning behind it, just a basic paranoid idea of preventing Shane from crossing Annabelle, caused such an effect on him? He didn't ponder too much over it, or at least he tried not to. They still had to film the ride back and he didn't want to make this sudden transition in his mood to be obvious. And luckily for him, no one suspected a thing because if they did, the mind would naturally reverse through memories and search for a difference in the norms that could cause this change. And the only difference found in filming the supernatural videos in comparison to the Annabelle one was Ryan gripping Shane's wrist. It's easy to assume that's the cause. 

So, he wasn't transparent. He kept his mind on other things, buried his hand in between his thighs and left it there. Ryan sat next to him with their shoulders pressed tightly against each other, despite some extra space beside both of them. To fit in the frame, he was told. Yeah, okay. And he was thankful Ryan wore that jacket as well as he, preventing him to feel any more heat from the man.

That day wrapped up sooner than expected, partly because Shane was just going around in a daze and trance-like moments. He only remembered the time he left the office to get a coffee. Two coffees. Or was it three? He paused at that sudden blurry memory. Who else besides Ryan asked him for coffee? Shane was tempted to check the change in his pocket so he'd know if he'd bought two or three coffees but then decided to just forget about it. It wasn't the first time he bought other people coffee so why make such a big deal out of it? 

_Yeah, just like Ryan touching you._

Shane frowns and unlocks his door with extra force, mildly out of frustration that he's being this way. 

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he asks himself as soon as he enters his apartment and shut the door, instantly resting against it. He sees Obi come around, his head rubbing incessantly against Shane's legs. Shane picks him up and cradles him in his arms, absent-mindedly petting and scratching the cat under his chin. He feels a faint tingle of whiskers tickling his jaw but he doesn't move away, just wanting to get his hands busy and holding Obi in his arms usually fulfils that wish. Until the cat squirms in his hold and he's forced to put him down. 

Shane is being stupid, he knows he is. Ryan has been his friend for, what, five years now? Four? He's never reacted like that whenever the man touches him. The only other time Ryan had touched his skin completely with bare hands was when Shane was crouched over a toilet and throwing up all the bile in the result of an office party and Ryan had his hands massaging at the back of his neck. He was teasing him endlessly, about his weak blood and how it couldn't handle alcohol very well. Yet Shane never thought twice about it. Not until now. Not until he realises that he was drunk and wouldn't even recall what he felt and so there is a possibility that he reacted the same under that touch. 

"It's nothing, Shane. It's not something you should be thinking about," says the man as he fills up Obi's bowl and washes his hands afterwards. It _is_ nothing. But as he dries his hands, unknowingly, he drops the napkin and his fingers trail that part of his left wrist where Ryan's grasp still left a sizzling of sensation on his skin. He just touches it as if Ryan's fingers are still there, remembering the warm rough touch, the surprisingly soothing skin that causes him to instantly imagine how it'd feel like on other parts of his skin. The touch descends from his temple to his cheeks, down to his neck where it inevitably runs south to his chest—he breathes in sharply and grips the counter, hanging his head low as he tries to cut off the static going off in his brain. His stomach feels tight and his toes curl. It's just Ryan. It's just a grip. He's done more than that and nothing happened. 

Shane goes to bed early that night but he doesn't sleep at all. 

——

"Dude, what the hell happened to your wrist?" Ryan takes a quick glance and asks as soon as he watches his friend descend on his chair next to him. 

Shane freezes for a split second and looks down, where the strong whiff of lemon hand soap is still on his wrist. He may or may have not rubbed that part of his skin a little too roughly with soap as if to wash away any remnants of Ryan's touch, like a desperate child with a bad spontaneous decision of putting on temporary tattoos. It backfires of course. Now it's stark red from irritation against his pale skin and he couldn't stop staring at it while driving to work, just having to recall that moment again and again and almost breaking his steering wheel from gripping it too hard. 

"Uh, yeah, it was itchy and I scratched it a little too hard…" he responds with a fading mind. He could barely hear his own voice. All he could focus on was Ryan's fingers on his keyboard, clicking away. No matter what, he keeps on thinking about it. He keeps on thinking about the feel of those fingers on his skin, because now he knows and now he wants to know more, to confirm with himself that he hasn't mistaken how good the touch felt. Shane closes his eyes briefly, overwhelmed by the growing need. 

"I made you coffee but you're later than usual, so it's not hot anymore, sorry," Ryan pushes a mug towards him, still focused on whatever he's researching on his computer screen. Shane stares at the cold coffee, the brown liquid now appearing so dull and dry at the surface. He didn't want to drink it but Ryan made it for him so he does anyway, holding back a cringe at the unsettling sensation of cold coffee on his tongue. He finds it difficult to swallow like his body is strongly rejecting such cursed liquid and he's tempted to spit it out back into the mug. But then he hears Ryan sighing at his side, probably at whatever he's reading and he forces it down his throat, almost choking in the process. 

Ryan's attention on the website falls apart and he turns to the gurgling sound next to him, seeing Shane wiping his lips with a tissue. He inevitably notices a coffee stain on his shirt and widens his eyes. "Hey man, you don't—you don't _have_ to drink it. I won't mind."

Shane shakes his head immediately, desperate to not let the man get the wrong idea. Well, it's not wrong but he can't let that be known now, can he? "No, it's not that. I—it—" he sighs in defeat. 

"Forgot how to drink, big guy?" 

Shane looks at Ryan, taking in the mocking gleam in his eyes and a grin. He shrugs. "Maybe."

A snicker. "What's going on, man? That big bad brain of yours forgot how to function this morning?" Then he pauses and Shane dreads what comes after it. " _Holy shit_ is it—" 

"Don't."

"—because of yesterday's shoot—" 

"Ryan."

"—Did Annabelle get to you?" he spins in his chair and completely shocks Shane when he stomps down his feet on the ground to drag his rolling chair closer to the taller man, completely invading Shane's little circle of space and enclosing their proximity. Flabbergasted, Shane watches as Ryan reaches his hands up and pulls his face close, palm on his cheeks and fingers pulling at the taller man's eyelids and bags to expose his eyes wider, like a nurse checking for signs of concussion. It all happens in the blink of an eye. "No black eyes," he murmurs thoughtfully to himself and reaches up to slide his fingers through Shane's hair and pressing his palm against his scalp. "No signs of horns as well. Hm."

Shane breathes shallowly. He wants to push down this lump in his throat but he can't even manage to do that. The fingers in his hair felt too intimate and too satiating that he almost melted and slid down his chair like butter on a hot pan. He isn't mistaken at all. Ryan's touch just tingles his skin more than he thought it would that his mind goes hazy, like waking up from a long dream and his eyes almost flutter shut in serenity. He's never felt such a soothing touch ever before. All the way from his scalp, a rush of bliss flows down his body, leaving him to shudder internally. Its effect is as quick as getting a massage after a really tiring day with aches all over; it can easily send you to sleep. Shane wants to sleep right there in Ryan's hands, but he also wants to stay awake to drown in the pure contentment.

However the fingers slip out of his hair as soon as it came and he's back to the office and out of his trance, everything slowly becoming sharper and real; the sound of printers spitting out copies and paper shredders from afar suddenly louder than usual. His eyes flicker from his clenching fists around the chair's arms to the man before him. Ryan has a guarded look on his face, like he's just realized something with his hands paused midway in between them, and that _something_ must be the fact that their faces are so close he's breathing in the air Shane lets out and how he's leaned forward so much he might as well be sitting on Shane's lap. 

Shane scrambles for a way to break this moment before Ryan would, because somehow if he lets the shorter man do that, their friendship could be strained. Ryan isn't like him, he doesn't hide what he feels. But Shane can feel a thousand different things and keep a straight face or easily say something that speaks otherwise. So Shane takes control of the situation because it's easy for him to not freak out noticeably and keep it cool, it's easy for him to make it seem as if nothing is wrong in their friendship and nothing will be. So he nonchalantly says, "Annabelle is just a ragged doll. She's stuck in a box soaked in holy water. She can't get to me, Ryan. I'm ghost-proof, remember?" 

And the deal is done. Ryan blinks and sits back, allowing the cool air around them to freely roam in between once more. The clock ticks, someone's phone rings, his body relaxes and they make eye contact easily despite the expected awkward aftermath of that moment. Ryan shakes his head in amusement. "It's a demon, Shane. Not a ghost. It's killed people."

"Well then, I'm demon-proof, baby! It can't kill me, let alone touch me. I'm intimidating, Ryan. Have you not noticed the fear in those deep black eyes?" 

Ryan expresses a soft wheeze and turns back to his computer. He shakes his head fondly. "Go make another coffee, dude. Cold coffee is shit."

"It is, yeah. But I promise you that you don't make bad coffee. I only found it hard to—" 

Ryan pushes him away, laughing. "Yeah, yeah I get it. Go get your coffee. Jesus."

Shane grins and picks up his mug as he stands. "I'll treat you for lunch, little guy."

"That's a promise."

——

But Shane finds it harder to focus now. Now, whenever he runs his hands through his hair he can almost feel those fingers again, soft and strong, firm and confident. He shudders and brings his hands down to put it under his warm thighs like it has run out of control and he needs to weigh it down, feeling as though his scalp has been perforated by Ryan's goddamn fingers. 

He's such an idiot. He really is. He can't mess up one of the few good things in his life just because his body suddenly grew distant and has weird responses to touches. Especially from his friend. His fucking best friend and cohost. 

Andrew appears from behind and walks by him. Immediately, Shane's eyes drop to his hand, a thought jumping around. He decides to test something out. 

"Hey," Shane calls out. Thankfully, the man turns around on the first call and raises an eyebrow as he spots his caller on a lone table in the cafeteria. 

"Can you see if there's something at the back of my neck? An ant maybe? It's been tickling me."

Andrew looks confused and wanders his eyes around them, probably guessing that Shane's not talking to him. But they're the only one here and Shane's staring at him directly, he's sure of _that_ , and so he walks to the back of the seated man. He gently pushes Shane's head forward so it dips down and he can look easier at the said spot. He lightly grips the back collar and pulls it, searching for an alleged ant down his spine, only to find nothing. 

He steps away and into the view of Shane. He shrugs. "No ant. Must be a loose thread."

Then he leaves, and Shane sighs deeply. Nothing. He felt nothing. It was the same as when other strangers had touched him; a doctor, a barber, a cashier unconsciously touching his fingers to grab his credit card or cash. It's just a slip of a touch, a skin to skin interaction that doesn't make him ponder over. So obviously, his body isn't sensitive to touch. But unfortunately, it is to Ryan. Dreadfully, shamefully, it reacts differently to when his friend touches him. The first time it happened, Shane thought of the possibility that perhaps he was just shocked and didn't expect Ryan to _grab his wrist_. The second time it happened, in the office, was perhaps a coincidence as well. He didn't expect it to happen too. 

So he thinks that maybe if it _is_ expected, maybe if he tries to elicit some kind of reaction from Ryan that could make him touch him, maybe then he wouldn't feel like this. 

He smiles. Maybe it is like that after all.

——

It isn't. Fuck. 

He purposely trips over a plant pot when they're walking towards the building entrance to leave for the day and already planned how he'd fall without hurting himself. He was also expecting Ryan to grab his arm. He'd purposely worn short sleeves just so there's a higher chance Ryan could touch his skin. Which he did, completely. And it's the same. It's the same rush of nerves as soon as the shorter man grabbed his arm that makes him pause in the air and just completely focuses on how his skin is swimming in delight from the hold. 

"Dude, what the fuck. You okay?" he hears Ryan exclaim out of surprise, his hand still on his arm. Shane licks his dry, chapped lips and pulls his arm away naturally without indicating that he loves that touch more than anything. He clears his throat, looks down at the worried gaze and smiles softly. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't see it coming."

Ryan stares up at him in bewilderment, his hand stretched out towards the infamous plant. "Are you serious? That plant has been there since the beginning of the year, man. How could you not see it there?" 

Shane shrugs. "I don't know. I trip over maybe 10 things in a day."

Ryan briefly ponders over that logic and hums in agreement. His eyes linger on the taller man for two seconds before he continues to walk towards his car. "With those 50 miles long limbs? Certainly."

"Okay, they're not _50 miles long_."

"Sometimes I look at you and think of those inflatable tube dudes outside of the stores. Just flailing around, hitting everything." A pregnant pause. "Eh, fuck it. _Every time_ I see you I think of that."

"What—that's not—I don't look like that," his tone sounded completely defensive and offended, yet Ryan can still trace the playfulness in it. 

"I never said you did. I said you _remind_ me of them."

"That's the same thing!" Shane jogs a little to catch up. Jesus, he walks fast for that height. 

"It's not. What you _do_ look like is a noodle."

"You know, you're getting kinda weak at these comparisons."

"Whatever, asshole. It's the truth and I wasn't trying to impress you."

Shane gasps and he uses the lamppost as a sort of a spotlight for him, his hand on his chest and the other in the air like he's in a musical. "Ouch. The satirical truth has scathed my pride, I don't think I can bear to face any man before me once again! I'm a human noodle and an inflated flailing balloon in the eyes of a man so short I question his ability to not see Hell down below us—" 

"Alright, that's enough Shakespeare shit for the night."

"But I'm not done yet, Ryan! My despair has yet to be expressed. The youth of the night awaits my—" 

"Your unfathomable mind?" 

"My peculiar talent of being a play writer."

Ryan wheezes and turns around briefly to catch Shane's puckish grin, his hands halted in the air due to the sudden change in attention and floating there as he was waving it around to add a dramatic effect to his words. He didn't have to really. His voice changes octaves whenever he does those little bits and Ryan enjoys it so much he'd listen to an entire audiobook if Shane's the speaker, even though that's one of the things he can't stand. It's amusing and entertaining, always bound to make him laugh. 

And then Ryan, for a moment, takes in the half-shadowed face of the man in front of him. The light from the lamppost as well as the moon's seemed to achieve its purpose on only half of Shane's face, the other covered by the dark. His eyes seemed to scintillate and his smile stretches widely enough that his whole face smiles. His eyes curve and it's almost shut, his cheekbones raised upwards and his lips reveal a little bit of a teeth. It's a dazzling sight, a wondrous look that makes you think twice about what smiling really is. It's a smile Ryan has grown so fond of that at times he'd be able to lift his own mood up just by thinking of it. 

The shorter man clears his throat as he stares a little too long and he looks away again. "I bet you a million dollars that you were in a play once."

"Oh ho, don't be so smug now. Million dollars are hard to come by if you bet wrong."

An exasperated sigh. "I'm right, aren't I."

"You betcha!" 

"And let me guess," he looks over his shoulders mischievously. "You were a tree."

"Fuck you, okay, I was _not_ a tree. Aren't you underestimating my acting skills a little bit too much right there?" 

"As a tree? Definitely not, Shane. I give you my full support."

"I had _lines_ . I was a _human character_ that contributed fairly enough to the story."

"And what character was it exactly? In what play?" 

Shane grows quiet, shuffles his shoes against the ground and says, "that's disclosure for another day."

"See! I told you. You were a tree. A splendid one. They never had a person play a tree so well before."

The taller man smiles at Ryan. There seemed to be something in him that just loves the relentless part of him so much he'd deal with it his whole life willingly. At that second he wanted to touch Ryan, he felt like stroking his cheek with his jaw in his palm, he felt like slipping his own fingers through his dark hair and mess it up from its style until it can no longer remember how it was before. He wanted to perhaps feel his lips as well, to see if it was as soft as his skin, just a thumb, a little touch is all he needs. It was right there, put in front of him like that's what it's meant to do all along; to be touched by Shane. And as he does so, his fingertips will tingle and it'll be as if a charge is triggered through him, just as how when Ryan touches him. 

But Shane doesn't do that. He nods towards Ryan's car behind him, telling him silently to go on. He hides his hands in his jean pocket as though it has sinned, watches Ryan waves goodbye before walking off to his own car. It's screaming at him internally now. He knows this feeling way too well in his three decades of life. He's gone through it in middle school, high school, college and so on. 

But the only issue is it's Ryan. It's not just any person he happens to have a crush on. It's his goddamn best friend who makes a show with him that got famous hugely based on their dynamic and if he somehow alters that dynamic by ruining their friendship, their main foundation, everything can be gone. He can't do that to Ryan. Ryan with his comebacks and his intransigence in relation to the dead roaming the earth and immense dedication to _Unsolved_ . Even if he knows that Ryan looks at both ways, that man doesn't consider him beyond the best friend line. Hell, he's driven straight through a wall, _the barrier_ . All because of, what, a hand grip primarily to stop him from taunting excessively at a _demon doll_? 

"Impressive, Madej. You've developed a crush because of a fucking doll. Maybe I should applaud it, for ruining my life without having to kill me," he mutters sullenly and drives away, into the newborn night and deep into the maelstrom of his emotions. 

——

Shane decides that he shouldn't treat it as a curse. Maybe the best thing now is to just deal with it as any other things, like perhaps an itchy spot at the back of his neck. He'd give attention to it, but he won't let it affect anyone. Just him. It's only him. He's brought it upon himself anyway. 

Right now they're in Ryan's car, driving to a supposedly haunted spot somewhere in a place Shane hasn't bothered to remember. He's always in for a surprise, no matter how many times the crew has told him beforehand. Somehow he manages to let the words slip through one ear and escape the other. He leans on the door and stares out the window, watching tree by tree go by as well as cars. The drive is silent, besides the low volume of the radio and Ryan's car keys dangling at sudden jerky movements of the car. Shane is completely lost in his thoughts; he's just swirling through the idea of liking Ryan, the pros and cons and so far he's not getting much on both sides. He's too distracted by wanting to touch Ryan. It's now growing inside him intensively, gripping him out of any focus and only onto that. 

Ryan seemed oblivious to it all but Shane understands the mechanism of the nervous system way too well to know that a slight brush of skin on another can immediately trigger the brain and tell the person that _someone is touching them_. If he tries to just touch him a little, Ryan can feel it and he'd know. And maybe some explanation would be nice for him to give, which he doesn't have. 

Shane realises that when they did séances in haunted locations before, they'd had to hold hands to complete the circle or whatever, and it'd been oddly nice to hold Ryan's warm hands. He thought maybe it was because he felt cold and to warm his skin up felt really blissful. But with the way things are now, that's definitely not the case. He likes Ryan. Period. 

Shit, he's liked him way before as well. 

Shane turns his head slightly without taking it off against the window, tilting until he can see Ryan in his view. The man is swapping glances at the road and the GPS on his phone, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled in between his teeth. He doesn't notice Shane's stare. Shane feels helpless, just succumbing to this whirlwind of a crush. Does he want to maybe hold that hand? Does he want to kiss Ryan? Does he want to lay next to him and hold him tight against his body? It's a blur. Nothing seems to make the answers loud and clear and firm. 

He turns away, closes his eyes and tries to not remember the wonderfully addicting feel of Ryan's touch. He wants more and he always will. 

And maybe that's why he's so desperately fucked. Seriously, why can't Annabelle just straight up murder him if how he's coming out of that museum is crave his best friend's touch?

They stop in front of an empty tall building, about maybe 15 stories high. It's an apartment building, he quickly notices and recalls the few gruesome deaths occurring in it that Ryan had gifted him on the way over, a little gift he says, a little boost. Those were the deaths he wouldn't detail on too much though, the main ones preserved for the episode. Ryan hesitantly walks towards it, knowing full well he'd have to spend the night here tomorrow. Here, in this dirty, dark, crumbling building. Shane doesn't see anyone here. The owner of the building hasn't arrived yet. In fact, who would even own this shitty land? They surely wouldn't be too excited to arrive on time. 

Shane turns to see Ryan still by the car, looking distraught and highly dazed by the intimidating vibe of the building. He walks closer and sees the man smiling at him then as if he's glad that Shane decided to be within his space. And maybe he is. That's how it goes anyway with all the haunted locations.

Shane stands by him and tries to ignore how close their hands are to each other, the heat inevitably swarming around his skin. He could just move a little and he'd touch him, but is he prepared for the fervorous sensations that come along with it? Will he ever? 

"This is it, huh?" 

"Hm? This is what?" Ryan looks up at him. But Shane doesn't turn to meet his gaze. He knows he couldn't resist it. 

"The jackpot."

"What makes you think so?" 

"Well, it's the season premiere. Nothing gets funkier than that. _And_ it's old, rusty, barely holding up."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan shakes his head, a small hint of a smile because really, what sort of reply had he expected from the man other than a chance to complain about the location. 

"We may die here, Ryan."

"Don't be overly dramatic. It's safe."

"Oh, is it now? That's what they said about the Titanic and now it's at the bottom of the sea, rotting."

Ryan snickers and lightly punches Shane's arm. And it's what broke the entire resistance. Shane found the ropes were torn and the chains let down. He's a loose animal. 

Ryan's hand never makes it back. Shane grabs it immediately and pulls it towards him, briefly catching Ryan's surprised face. The shorter man's body bends towards him and he's held up by Shane's other hand that slips through his back. And they meet. Their bodies pressed tight with one arched and the other looming, a curve that seems impossible but is happening. Their bodies become one. And so do their lips. 

It was overwhelming and Shane's lost in the dwam caused by the feel of Ryan's skin and his lips on his. Shane doesn't think. He just presses his lips against the other, not even moving it. 

But the shuddering of breath coming from the other man is what broke him. He opens his eyes and moves to pull away until he feels the familiar fingers at the back of his neck and he's pulled down further, their lips pressed tighter and now engulfing their breaths into each other's systems. Ryan tilts his head to dance his lips easier on Shane's, eliciting a small gasp from him. Shane isn't prepared. He knew he'd never be. But the knowledge that Ryan's kissing him back, that he's pulling him down and standing on his toes to return the kiss makes him tighten his hold and open his lips. 

It isn't long before they got the rhythm and knew how to kiss the other. It's as easy as holding hands. Their lips meet right where it's supposed to be, moving in a way that compliments the other. When Shane breathes in the air from Ryan, he conspicuously licks his lips as to give a little tease in the process, retrieving a whiny reply from him. Ryan curls his fingers in fervour at the nape of Shane's neck, before it ascends to his hair and tangling into it harshly, tugging at it and pulling and gripping. He doesn't give a chance for Shane to get used to that and runs his tongue directly through and invading his open mouth, tasting him and feeling his body tremble with it. Now a clash of teeth and tongue, a battle that's never meant to contain victory on any side.

Ryan feels Shane biting his bottom lip and grinning against it before pushing his head back to kiss him harder. It's fucking with his head, with how eager their tongues slide and how breathless he's getting but somehow can't stop kissing him. Ryan loves the wetness of it now, their lips forgetting any other function but to devour the other's taste. It's initiating this rough breathing, this suffocation in his chest like he can't get more than this and it's the highest form of torture. 

Not until Shane twists him around and walks back until Ryan's against his car, supported. Shane pulls away and ignores the string of saliva in between their parted lips to press his own on Ryan's cheek, his jaw, peppering it with a slightly wet trail as he slips his tongue to taste his skin until he reaches the man's neck. They're both barely catching their breaths. It's swarming their minds until all they can think of is the other's skin on their skin, lips on their body, breath in their own mouth. It's an earthquake, rattling their stability even though they have the car to support them. 

As Shane desperately bites lightly on a certain spot under Ryan's jaw, pushing his head to the side to expose the area, it sent a straight shot of pleasure down the shorter man. Ryan's grip on Shane's hair was to advantage now. He stops Shane by pulling his head away, looks up at him with crazed eyes and shaking his head with a rush, breathing heavily. He won't hold it in if Shane gets a little lower. He'd let the man take him right there and then, in the open land. 

They hear the grumble of tires nearby. Ryan detangles his fingers and combs Shane's hair down to make it look as it was before. Shane smiles down at the gesture, takes his hand from his back to wipe a little at Ryan's lips with his thumb from how wet and swollen it appeared. It was entrancing and he urged to kiss it again if it wasn't for the owner arriving. 

Shane moves away so that he's standing next to Ryan against the car, still holding the man's hand and quietly looking ahead as if what they've been doing all along is staring at the building. The owner is in his mid-40s, tired and kind, his posture loose as he finds the young men. He brings them into the building, unsuspecting of what happened despite their unstable breathing and red cheeks and lips. 

——

They didn't decide where to go. They just ended up at Shane's apartment. 

The whole ride back to the office was tough. They couldn't look at each other for one second or else they'd lose control. Shane was clenching his jaw, crossing his legs, which was quite a surprise considering the long limbs and limited space, and one of his arms was resting against the window and the other holding his phone. He wanted to hold something. Something that's not Ryan. He felt it burning under his skin to just touch the man again. 

Ryan was staring at the road intently, hoping to not give in to turn his head and stop the car at the side of the road and climb to Shane's lap. He didn't know where this craving came from. It was as if the moment Shane grabbed his hand to pull him towards him, something flicked inside him, turning everything upside down and all that he is now is Shane's to devour. He swallows down a clog in his throat, gripping the steering wheel and tapping against it with no rhythm at all. He's just really restless with need. 

"Shane I—" he begins, his voice dry and deep. His lips start to tingle and he remembers the man's lips on his, how he manhandled him in just a few seconds yet Ryan has no problems against that at all. Somehow he finds it easier to deal with this because Shane's his friend, and he knows Shane better than most and vice versa. "I—" 

"Don't," Shane only replied, eyes still shut, voice still rough like it'd been scratched. He, on the other hand, tried to think that this was wrong. That Ryan would end up telling him midway that this isn't supposed to be happening. So, he let the whole ride be quiet. 

And they left it at that. Until they reach Shane's apartment. 

Shane's neighbours didn't look twice, they've seen Ryan come over for movie marathons late at night several times and at some point complained about how high the TV volume was. So, tonight was nothing different. At least for the neighbours. Not for them. Even as they walked up to the stairs, knowing full well that an elevator isn't the right place to deal with growing cravings, they didn't spare a glance, keeping it cool and buried. 

As Shane unlocks the door, Ryan leans on the wall next to it and looks around even though there's absolutely nothing interesting to analyse. He eventually looks at Shane's profile and smiles a little. He's still confused about this whole situation but in the meantime, it didn't matter. Not when he entered the apartment and hears Shane breathe in sharply to close the door and stride to him with eagerness and grab his face in his palms to pull him towards his desperation. This kiss was harder, more fierce, more wanting. Their lips met like a wrecking ball against a wall, destructing both of their sanity as they grasped onto each other. Ryan's hands were back in Shane's hair, his face cupped in the man's hands, tight and unmoving. The hands slipped down to his neck where it warmed Ryan's skin, making him melt against Shane's hold. 

It's a storm, a war. It's a storm during a war. They're fighting through a hurricane of desire and none was about to lose or win. 

Ryan pushes Shane ever so slightly to look up at him, wide bright eyes lingering. He was about to ask what's happening because this is all going too fast and very very unexpected. He definitely didn't think this was how his day would go when he woke up this morning annoyed at the lack of eggs in his fridge. But then Shane's eyes seemed to entrance him and he mutters a 'never mind' before pulling his head down to kiss him once more. 

There's a deep moan pulled out of Ryan's throat as Shane swipes his tongue through his mouth, the feel of it instantly making his toes curl. He pulls away for a split second to catch his breath, taking the chance to bite Shane's bottom lip, eyeing the redness and wetness of it. A thunderous feel in his stomach, flowing down to his groin like a slap to the face when he kisses the man again. Shane's leg manages to slip in between Ryan's thighs, rubbing against his pulsating erection. It made Ryan detach their lips, his head on Shane's shoulder as he breathes in and out with a somewhat erratic pattern. His grip on the man's hair tightens with pleasure and pain, pain as how hard he feels at the moment. "Shane," he breathes out. 

The taller man pauses as well, his hands again running down to grip Ryan's arms. "Ryan," he replies. "Fuck."

"Touch—" Ryan swallows. "I want you to—" 

Shane doesn't have to hear the words. He leans in and swipes his tongue over Ryan's lips, parting them. He brushes his swollen lips over them gently, sharing breaths and sweat. His hand remains at Ryan's neck, where his thumb extends to push his jaw upwards so his head tilts and Shane's given a space to bury his lips on. He sucks at the spot, feeling Ryan's fingers slide up onto the thicker area of his hair. He tries to ignore how good that feels, to not distract himself. 

Ryan doesn't know what to focus on, the hand sliding down his body or the wet sucking and biting at his neck. They were throwing him into a hot reverie, his voice in disguise of dragging moans and whines, begging for more. 

Shane gives him all, hearing his breaths go unsteady at his ears. Ryan, at some point, had his hands run down to Shane's upper back, clinging onto him as Shane's hand works. None of them thinks about what's happening. None of them thinks, _'this is my friend I'm pressed up against.'_ They drown their voices and their pleasure in the hands of each other, continuing as Ryan returns the favour after coming off his high. It's a mess. They're still a few feet away from the door, not even bothering to get deeper into the apartment before losing themselves in this. 

And it leaves them both breathless, dazed. Shane leans his forehead on the wall beside Ryan, his hand gripped at the man's waist under his shirt. His fingers incessantly stroke his skin, already used to the thrilling tingles under his fingertips. Ryan's eyes are closed, face hidden in Shane's neck and inexorably breathing him in. 

Eventually, they pull away, staring with mutual tender. They clean up and shower, separately, and Ryan finds a couple of his clothes in Shane's clean laundry bag. He hears his heart pulsating, a steady thump beneath his chest. His clothes are already here as if Shane's never bothered to return it knowing Ryan would end up here someway somehow. He brings the shirt to his nose, inhaling that familiar detergent. He hears shuffles behind him, a hesitant movement at the doorway. He puts on the shirt and turns around, finding Shane with two mugs in his hand. He holds one out. 

"I made coffee," he says sheepishly and Ryan almost laughs. Of course, he'd make coffee after jerking each other off near his front door. 

He takes it wordlessly, bringing the mug to his lips to hide a shy smile. He has no idea why he's shy. It's not as if he's never been jerked off by a guy before. But then he looks up at Shane walking down the hall towards his living room and remembers that this is _Shane_ , his best friend for years and how they've never touched each other for more than just a palm on the skin and now they've…did that. What has changed? Why now? What has awakened this buried craving they hold for each other? 

Ryan has always known what he feels for Shane isn't just another best friend thing. It's always more intense than with the others. He always sighs a little softer at Shane's idiotic bits, caressing instead of stroking and he'd laugh louder despite the fact that there's no reason to; everything in him seemed to specialise Shane. Like he's a different type of best friend; one whom he eventually falls for. 

But it's a calming quiet thing inside his heart. It's more of a blessing rather than a curse they fantasise about when falling for your best friend. He already loves spending time with Shane, even though at the core he just really has no choice, and so this…crush, or love or whatever it is that he feels, makes him cherish the man's presence more. He's let this crush grow in him until it's just a part of him now; to love Shane. He's been allowed to touch the man, to stick by his side, to joke around with him that loving him is just inevitable. And it's never bothered him before, he found no reason to disclose it to anyone. Until today. 

They sit next to each other on the sofa, thoughts loud yet muted. The TV is on and a documentary about vampire bats is played. None of them bothers to watch it.

Shane clears his throat nervously. He drinks his coffee before starting again. "That was a surprise."

Ryan snorts. "Tell me about it."

"I didn't know you'd…well, that you—" 

"Want to touch you?" 

Shane almost chokes on air. "I—yes."

Ryan shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. "I think I've always wanted to." In his peripheral sight, Shane turns to him, eyes wide. 

" _Always_?" 

"Yeah."

"Then why haven't you—Jesus."

"Told you about it? Yeah, that's a really great idea, Shane. Telling your best friend of four fucking years that you want to fuck them wouldn't make things awkward at all, especially when you didn't know that they wanted to as well," he throws a narrowed glance. 

Shane runs his hands over his face, shocked and stunned by this sudden revelation. Then he pauses as he fully grasps Ryan's words. He peeks at the shorter man's face through his fingers, his voice muffled as he says, "wait, hold on, you—you want to fuck me?" 

Ryan groans, increduled by the man beside him. "Jesus Christ, Shane. No, I didn't let you come in my goddamn hands because I want us to fuck but because oh wow, suddenly I'm a heartless hand job machine with only one priority. What the fuck do you think, man?" 

Hearing Ryan say the words himself seemed to shorten his breath like there's a block in the air vent and all that's sputtering out is broken air. His hand falls to his lap and he stares at the flushing man. _Holy shit. He wants me too._

"I…me too," he quietly says. 

"Yeah, no shit."

"No, Ryan, it's—" he shifts nervously in his seat, unsure if this reveal is another of those bad decisions. But Ryan's staring at him, waiting, dark brown eyes wide and searching. He sighs. It's now or never. "Ever since the—the Annabelle episode, when you grabbed my hand because you didn't want me to knock on the glass, I started to get nervous whenever you touch me. And it's a good kind! It's the type of nervous that only means one thing, you know? That—that—" 

"You like me," Ryan completes slowly, with caution. Shane thinks he's about to get a cardiac arrest. His heart is racing so fast and it's pounding his head until the only sound he hears is the thrum inside his body. He clenches his jaw, sees _that look_ on Ryan's face and immediately regrets his decision to disclose his feelings. It's a look where he's having a hard time trying to understand what's been told. Ryan shakes his head a little. "Shane, I—" 

"Look, I get it if you don't like me too and that this all is just heat-in-the-moment kinda thing or a no strings attached shit, I get it. It's fine, really, I can put this aside and it'll be as if nothing has happened I promise."

"No, you don't—" 

"Ryan, please, it's—" 

"Would you shut up?" Ryan snaps. Shane closes his lips, waits for the words to come and break his heart in two. But it never comes. The words never broke him. "You're such a piece of shit, Shane. I don't just fuck my _best friend_. What type of dumbassery is that?" 

"The kind that's pretty common? Ever heard of friends with benefits?" 

"I don't do that shit, you ass. I—you're not…just any friend. It's…" he sighs, tired. 

A stunned silence. A pause. The words slot into place in Shane's head. "So…"

"So I like you too, idiot. I've always liked you. Don't ask me since when 'cause I have no clue but I do. I do."

Shane's heart steadies. It returns to a normal speed and his shoulder fall to relax. It's as if he's been told that global warming has been cured. He sees Ryan smiling down at his mug, his head shaking like he's just said the cheesiest shit ever. Which sort of was. But Shane didn't mind. He's said some puns that were god awful and a small confession from Ryan like that is nothing compared to corny jokes. It fires relief in Shane as well as excitement. 

_Holy shit, holy shit._

"Well, holy shit, you like me too," Shane exhales, extracting a laugh from the man next to him. "I guess I owe Annabelle a thing or two for making me realize that I felt the same."

Ryan raises his eyebrows smugly, his mug halfway to his lips. "You were saying about being demon-proof?" 

"Oh, shut up, Ryan."

——

"Heh, look, we're a meme format."

Shane snorts. "Ryan, our Instagram account is filled with our fans making memes of us. Why do you sound so surprised?"

"No, this is the—" Ryan wheezes, holding his phone out. "It's the moment you lost your shit and realized you liked me, dumbass."

He squints his eyes, taking in the red and black gleam of the photo. "Okay, first of all, I did not lose my shit. Secondly, why the fuck is _that_ moment made into a meme? Don't they know how highly significant that moment is?" 

"No, I don't think they know. I think they find it very memeable and hilarious."

Shane crosses his arms, offended. "I don't think memeable is a word, Ryan."

"I don't think _you're_ a word."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

"It means what it means. Now move, you big headed baby. I think my thighs are asleep, shit," he tries to shove Shane off his lap but fails as Shane weighs his head down further, unmoving. They were sitting on Shane's sofa, the taller man laid down with his head on Ryan's lap. He was browsing for movies to watch, unable to find one that's worth their night and eventually gave up to just staring at the ceiling. 

Ryan then grows quiet, playing with the pop socket at the back of his phone until he chuckles. 

"What's so funny?" Shane mumbles, slowly getting tired and sleepy at the boring dull ceiling.

"All I wanted was for us to not get a car crash on the way back home."

Shane frowns and opens his eyes a little, hoping Ryan would elaborate. 

"If I'd let you knock on the glass and didn't hold your wrist, you probably would've taken a much longer time to realise you like me. Not to mention an accident on the way back."

"Ryan…" 

"No, shut up, listen. It's uh, it's like an activation key. A catalyst. Somehow, me touching you that day just—" he snaps his fingers. "—awakened your feelings. And that's pretty weird because I've touched you several times before and nothing has ever happened. So, that just leaves me to Annabelle."

Shane groans in despair. "You're giving that doll way too much credit."

Ryan grins and holds Shane's face in his palm, squeezing his cheeks together so his face is just narrowly mashed, his lips puckered. "It's a good theory. You have to admit that."

"Oh, so you're making theories now? What about the theory that maybe Annabelle isn't a demon but a cupid! All along she meant to strike love into people's hearts but she aimed wrong and killed them instead. Now isn't that a twist? Next on Buzzfeed Unsolved: Is Annabelle, in fact, a cupid?"

Ryan scoffs, "Now you're just making fun of me."

"Aw, am I, little guy? Does it hurt? Want to call mommy Bergara?" 

"Shut up, Shane."

"Look, Ryan, whatever Annabelle is, isn't it enough to just know that I irrevocably love you?" Shane watches his eyes soften at that. His hold loosens and all that's left is his fingers gently caressing his cheeks. His skin always tingles excitedly, giggly with the tidal nerves coming along with it. 

"I love you, too," Ryan drawls. "But still."

"No, no."

"Annabelle for sure has something to do with this."

"Fucking hell, Ryan. God. She's just a shitty doll who—" a warm palm slaps onto his mouth, instantly shutting him up. 

Ryan stares down wide-eyed. "Seriously shut up, dude. She can still kill us here."

A roll of eyes. And a fond exasperated sigh. 

——

Shane hates this. He hates every single thing about this idea and this situation. 

The leaves tear under his shoes and he savours the sound of crunching, reminding very much of his hometown during autumn. He looks up, squints at the little cabin-looking structure with trees hovering above it. The Warrens chose well to add a very artistic horror effect on this, very con-like. 

He sighs through his parted lips and decides to just roll with it. He's already here, isn't he? Might as well finish what he's started. 

Shane goes through the familiar introductions with the caretaker, tells them that he might have dropped his heirloom ring here. They told him that they've cleaned the place and found nothing but he pretends to be unsatisfied, insisting that he dropped it in this place while picking up the cameras. 

After five minutes he's inside, the dusty, plastic smell reaching his senses quick and direct. The dim lights made it hard for him to focus especially after such brightness from outside. But eventually his lens get used to it and he sees everything; the red and black theme, the glowing skull, the statues. He sighs again, he didn't really like this place for how terrifying it looks because it wasn't. He found it…inspiring, how much the Warrens committed to putting all these fake artefacts. There's gotta be hundreds of them here, right? A very inspiring commitment indeed. 

He walks forward, the wooden floor creaking under his boots and weight. Shane didn't have time to look at the other items though, he headed straight for the box. 

The doll sits in a slouched position, just as he's remembered. At first, the idea sounded reasonable, peace to his mind, but now, as he stares at those black plain eyes and innocent posture he instantly feels shame and humility towards himself. "Really, Shane, really?" he whispers harshly. He looks sideways with fatigue and turns back to the doll, clearing his throat and tightening his jaw. 

"It's me again. From last month. I bet you don't remember me, do you, what with all the countless visitors coming in day and night. It must be great, huh? To scare people just from behind a glass," he says with a low tone, hoping anyone from outside wouldn't be able to hear. "But surely you'd remember Ryan. The man I was with, uh, short, big arms, wide scared eyes? Yeah, that sounds like pretty much anyone who comes in, minus the arms and maybe the height. No, keep the height. Anyway," he straightens up. "At this point, I'm a little convinced that you're a cupid and not a demon. Because…"

Shane groans in frustration. What would he say? That it helped him come to realisations that he's in love with Ryan? That doesn't make any fucking sense. He stares back in disbelief, at the mocking gaze of the doll. It's a little piece of shit, is what it is. This is stupid. This is just plain idiocy. He doesn't even believe in demons for Chrissakes! 

He sighs. For the fifth time now under ten minutes. Shane licks his lips, forming the logic behind his visit. Yes, he'd come here because he wanted to...Jesus, even thinking about it was an embarrassment. He wants to, what, thank her? For what? For being in that glass and luring Shane to knock on it, which evidently leads to Ryan grabbing his wrist? Again, idiotic. But Shane's here already, so he might as well actually get the job done. 

"Ah, this is uncomfortable. Look, you're just a doll, alright? I'm sure I'm just, once again, talking to dust right now. But because you're in there and you, for some reason, scare the balls out of Ryan and made him grab me that day, I found that I've loved Ryan all along. Does that even make sense? How could one realise they love someone just from a wrist hold? Am I actually losing my shits? This is not how I want to end up in a nursing home. Or an asylum," he laughs incredulously. "But it happened. It…I guess it opened my eyes. To see how much Ryan cares about our lives. He never stopped me before, you know? Hell, he's pushed me to mock the 'spirits'. Perhaps this was different. For him. So, thank you for, for…being a demonic doll who's killed people and now stands to be one of the top things that Ryan is scared of? Fuck, okay, I'm leaving. This is getting ridiculous."

Before he turns, the rebellious part of him made him reach his hand out. His knuckles meet the glass twice. He grins and walks away, waving at the still doll. It's stupid but it's out of his chest, now isn't it? 

Shane drives away with a smile on his face, partly because of how absurd that whole situation was and partly because he's going back home to Ryan. 

He realises he'll never tell this to anyone, but it sure as fuck makes a helluva of a story. 

**Author's Note:**

> let's hope shane doesn't get into an accident on the way back hm
> 
> do talk to me on tumblr @summoningserotonin !!  
> it gets pretty lonely there haha


End file.
